|
|
|
|
|
| | Afflatus FragmentsPage 85 of 93 (53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93) | | We have become eternity—a stream within the Logos—a necklace dangling from the neck of the cosmos—or a bracelet gripped within the palm of divinity, for these things are majestic artifacts. Are there not spells upon these things? Are not these things our psychic promptings? Prompt me to go deeper. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 1:17:59 PM | Should I sacrifice to the gods for the sin I love? Is this not the mind of duplicity? Am I not a Gentile born, forsaken to sin?—notwithstanding that the two shall become one. Am I not of a different bloodline?
Dear God, when did it all become sin? When did it become an evil? How is it that Thou hast wrought evil and fashioned sin? | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 2:46:00 PM | please consider sin is man-made
much like time
much like everything subjective
the good, bad, and ugly....
sometimes impossible to define
consider all judgement is man-made
not divine....
or consider if everything
is striving to maintain balance
you can't have one without the other
a dichotomy...often a paradox...
each part weighing in equally
or consider another view...
imagine everything is divisible by three
symbolically
so there would be the action,
the attraction
and together they create
the result....
always moving energy....
consider the idea of sin
is just one branch...
one subjective branch
of a subjective tree of life....
but if one could see
things objectively,
then the good, bad and ugly
would be three sides of the same coin
maybe
yet there is so much relativity
for what could be good for one
could be bad for another
and what some see as beauty
others view as ugly....
it's all belief and point of view
and how you choose to use your reality...
you go deeply into self
you speak with words not lightly
it's like opening up your psyche
and peering inside....
sin? consider perhaps
there's no such thing
or maybe it's a term we devised
to try and explain what shocked our eyes....
like time
a grid we made to help our mind
make sense of chronology...
but some say it all happens
simultaneously
and it's just our limitations
that make things appear sequentially...
sorry...i've rambled on and on
from in my mind
when feelings
change things considerably....
so this valentine day's eve
i wish you and yours a
wonderful night
filled with delight
perhaps of the sinful kind... :)
just consider it's all in your mind
you can choose to see things
judgmentally....or not....
the good, bad and the ugly
a bit like a trilogy...
all spokes of the same wheel
maybe none of it is real
| |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 2:59:15 PM | | My heart is luminous. What is this feeling? I know of it quite well. But I cannot explain it. Seers unite in the link of energy. A goddess appears. “Test all spirits.” Thus, how do I ignore hearts that leap? “You cannot.” Thus—in spirit, I inquire! | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 3:08:10 PM | | WeAre1: I agree to some extent with everything you have written. But things are not created out of nothing. There is a tinge of some nature, which causes us to create. Sin is a complicated idea, deeply connected to guilt and our natural need to be good people. But you are correct, it is created. As for time, something is in motion, we just gave it a name. As for Valentine's Day, I hope you have a great one. And I thank you for your thought provoking post. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 3:48:38 PM | | In the recesses of a dream, screams echo into the screeching night—where bibles read prolong the cries. Breathed upon by Mystique Spirit, riddles pour forth secrets of the mind’s soul, ushering in alogical utterances, which befuddle the mortal’s mind. Sing clearly little canaries. Sing clearly the mysteries of life. Take away the vision muricated, sore with the plague of illusions, which are sprinkled throughout Picasso’s portraits. Bring back the purities of disabused thoughts; the sublime whispers of the zephyrs; the calming enrichment of ambrosial visions; and the spirit of the crops. Do bless the many souls of transmigration with the foresight of eagles; the keen senses of the ferrets; the courage of the lions; the cunning of the foxes; the grace of the doves; and the humble hearts of the dolphins. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/14/2012 4:42:01 PM | I Am
I am a noun.
Describe me with an adjective.
Enslave me with a verb.
What am I predicated upon?
I am a predicament—
A consequence.
I am a living preposition—
A theory—someone’s
Confused thoughts. My
Existence is dependent
Upon an argument. I
Am subjectivity
Imposed upon
By objectivity.
I am a GPA—
A social security
Number—
A college degree.
I am a bank account—
An object—
An esthetic. I am
An amulet—
A molecule—
Objectification.
I am a house—
A car—
Alimony and child
Support. I am a
Name within a
Black-book, count
My stars. I am eye
Candy—a
Conversation—
A published essay.
I am annoyance—
A gadfly—
A constant agitation.
I am a title—
A paycheck—
Someone’s religion.
I am a definition.
I am a perception. | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/16/2012 6:24:05 PM | Third Eye Retrospection
By way of meditation,
The mystery became a
Vision—reminiscing,
Tiptoeing upon the
Symbols of anguish.
A revelation was leaking
Into my spirit, enchanting
My mind. It was the
Bondage of amore. I
Was captured. The arms
Of my soul were cuffed.
I trekked motionlessly
Through the forest of
Love—a one sided coin.
I fed myself dreams,
Even a lifegiving illusion—
What was the debt in me?
Naive | |
|
| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 2/17/2012 8:23:47 AM | Reason 4 the Rhyme
I write to live
And be alive
I live to write
I sing to feel life's rhythm
I feel life's rhythm
Because I sing
I artistically create to stay sane
Whether I am sane
Or insane
I will still keep CREATING
mE | |
|
| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 2/17/2012 2:06:58 PM | | Songfulsoul60: I believe that we all write to live, at times, being created, and/or, molded by the things we write. I thank you for pointing this out. | |
|
| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 2/17/2012 3:37:27 PM | Within the Self
Searching into the mirror,
I had never seen myself.
I was frightened. Something
Was peering back at me.
This something was elusive,
But up close and personal—
Mocking my attempts to
Decode the mystery.
I soon walked away from
The mirror, and begin to
Meditate myself free—and
There it appeared—the
Presence of mystery. My
Heart begin to loom. My
Energy begin to surge, to
Surge throughout my being.
Something was upon me.
Something vibrant and alive.
I wanted to befriend this
Something. But how does
One befriend dimensions of
The self. I was at an impasse,
Soaking in the essence of
Illumination, burning in the
Spirit—splintered through
The soul; for there is a part
Of me, which gives life,
Vibrating within my person,
Connected to the world, but
Aloof to my comprehension.
A mystery lives within me,
And I am enlove with this
Mystery. So let it loom
Within my person, vibrating
Throughout my being,
Alerting me to the divine.
Naive | |
|
| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 2/17/2012 8:46:42 PM | AF 190
Lest I vanish in self-illusion,
I grapple and grasp at reality.
Alas, I have pushed past the limits.
You have been to me my soul,
Gripping my hand tightly, through
The whole process of birth. Such
Pangs I held as solemn, sanctified
In my mind.
I now drift. You are my root.
But deadly as un-tillaged pain.
I escaped you, just as father did.
I return. You gave to me a new
Friend, my now cultivated
Destruction. You closely
Destroyed me. But I am now
Reborn. This life! My labyrinth
Womb! | |
|
| |
| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 2/18/2012 2:32:18 PM | AF 199 (Looking into my Rearview)
Through hollow crevices
I walk a narrow road. Why
Force me into so many
Closets?—where webs entangle
The soul!
Cryptic wailings pour into my
Inner ear. I was but a child at
That time, sore and pessimistic.
I knew not the detriment of our
Passion—the mental thrash
—the cathedral of repentance.
I was detached, shadowed in
Words unspoken—where wolves
Distort the innocence of one’s
Youth. Our last embrace was
Frustrated, where our vows of
Forever slowly rotted in sulfur.
I now feel the indifference of
Our confession; albeit, it was
Sparsely felt back then. I can
Now remove the albatross, or
Can I?
Naive | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/18/2012 5:13:49 PM | The motion of light
Restores what is
Weak in me—the
Suitable sought
Without grasp.
This karnac walk
Through the cave
Of love, every step
Is another twinge
Within the psyche—
Tearing my soul
Asunder. Seismic
Motion moves me,
Making magic of
The moment—such
Moments make
Truth of love.
Thoughts, they walk
With me—many
Unpaid for—the
Soreness of my
Heart. Did he find
What he sought for?
Then let me repent
For my past. I was
Unaware of the
Aftermath. Woe
Was nigh the spirit,
I acted impetuously,
Drained by a demon.
Naive | |
|
| Afflatus Fragments
Posted: 2/19/2012 5:01:43 PM | A Moment in Time
Carry me through the desert,
Lord. I’m thirsty in this arid
Land. My inward mirror is
Rusty. I buff it. But the grime
Is thick. I buff it. But my image
Is still hazy!
I’m afflicted, afflicted with sin,
As one born therein. And the
Spirit of lust has damaged me
In part. But I confess, I was
Damaged willingly.
Within the psychic mountains,
I attempt to climb above the
Pressure, but the pressure is
Far too heavy. I’m exhausted!
Forgive me for the perception
Of transgression, but the spirit
Is plaguing me. Thus, place me
In the subterranean secret,
Right beneath the Spirit’s
Pinions.
Naive | |
|
| Pouring It Out
Posted: 2/20/2012 4:42:54 PM | Mystic undulations
Surge throughout my
Being. I have been
Afflicted sorely by
An afflatus, draining
My heart, provoking
My actions. It’s
Similar to a lovelock,
Otherwise a mystic-lock.
I wonder if paradise
Is near. But I’m
Certain that we are
Dearly undone, stuck
At an impasse, but
Devoted to keeping
Our distance. I pine
For our truth to
Breathe, but presently
We are nibbling fruit
From a poison tree.
I am forced to adhere
To heartbeats,
Searching through
The crucible of
Existence, searching
For a relic heartbeat.
Where is this heartbeat?
It pulsates throughout
My being, but it is
Aloof from my grasp.
Thus, into a whirlwind
I descend, falling into
A storehouse of mystery
And malaise. Love has
Been sewn in agony,
But the word love is
Insufficient. It doesn’t
Capture the essence of
Souls bonding through
Frequencies.
Groaning in the spirit,
Something resonates in
Our chest—a plangent
Force. Shall we answer?
Naive | |
|
| Streaming
Posted: 2/21/2012 4:54:36 PM | Streaming
Out of a thousand winks, I awoke
To visions. A deacon was offering
Me assistance, for sin was yanking
At my psyche. I am but a man
Hidden from himself, warring off
The plague of omens. What a soul
To treasure! As poetry pours forth,
Ink pens rupture in the spirit. In
Truth, existence renders heartache
And soulfelt agonies. Thus, I am
Subject to illusions. Embrace me
For who I Am, and never shall we
Utter deception. Life is but a burden
Without the soul of the mind
Attached. We must learn to
Conquer existence. Else, we are
Left seeking without a cause.
A vision founded within a myth has
Intoxicated my senses. I looked into
The crystal of a godly fantasy, and
There you appeared, more tangible
Than the death of that very myth.
Statuesque woman of passions
Birthed within my soul, I perish
Grasping at the visage of your radiant
Countenance. A million tears to be
Shed, a thousand words unheard, but
You put to rest the uneasiness of
Existence. You, goddess of Zeus’
Passions, envy of wisdom, my queen,
Fallen from heaven. If I could but
Understand you, maybe then I could
Escape you. | |
|
| Streaming
Posted: 2/22/2012 4:34:13 PM | From depth the belly of
The beast, a mystic was
Born, born to misery,
Agony and betrayal.
Such heartache was
Required to unlock the
Core essence of who I
Am to become.
However,
In mystic tongues, I
Wail, pleading to
Understand the mystery
Encompassing my being.
Why me, becomes the
Question—such a childish
Question, but nonetheless,
Such a question probes
My psyche.
I have met so many similar
To myself: silently
Undergoing transmutation,
Face to face with eternity.
Who are we to harbor
Secrets? But to speak freely
Is a myth, one encircled by
A small room—who are we
To test the boundaries?
Therefore, we remain babes
In the city, walking our way
Through the forest of flames—
Forever seeking.
Naive | |
|
| Streaming
Posted: 2/23/2012 9:47:58 AM | Students
At the college library, at a
Long table, made of oak,
A riddle unfolds—I am
Becoming a book, where
An invisible composer is
Writing my life. There are
Over a billion of us world-
Wide—running behind
Schedule, forgetting our
Books, harassing the
Professor, unknowingly
And unsuspectingly,
Becoming encyclopedias.
Naive | |
|
| Abstract Expression
Posted: 2/23/2012 10:37:27 AM | Abstract Expression
Life is the art of living—
Sorting through the seaweed
While adhering to ideals.
Scars, indelible wounds,
Breed wisdom—hear the
Drums of our ancestors.
A bush is burning, and I’m
Drawing near—to hear the
Word of invisibility.
Through an electrical
Current a coach was born,
Awakening our souls.
A voiceprint is impressed
Upon our spirits—the
Pillar of our existence.
Dreamlike dimensions, our
World within a world,
Allaying our troubled hearts.
To escape the anguish,
Many become dreamers,
Desperate for an epiphany.
Gazing into an heirloom,
We discover that prayer is
A sacred antidote.
A temblor is raging within
Our spirits, we are athirst
For a savior.
Naive | |
|
| When Tears Fall
Posted: 2/26/2012 3:01:06 PM | When Tears Fall
Even within the meadows
Of wisdom, aside Siddhartha’s
Creek, tears fall suddenly and
Without warning, leaving
Splintered souls, to wish upon
A rose, within the churchyard
Of forever—where we bow
And pay homage to divinity.
Still, tears shall fall. Thus,
Thoughts are cloudy, hearts
Are heavy, and spirits are
Slain—destined to wrestle
With the phantom of
Depression. Where does this
Phantom dwell?—for we are
Careful not to trespass its
Domain—the waterfall of
Soulfelt cries. Indeed, we
Monitor our subconscious,
Warding off the negative
Debris, hoping not to trigger
The hand of invisibility,
Whereby, a volcano erupts,
Pouring sadness into our
Spirits. Indeed, we are ever
Alert. But our keenness
Proves futile, even a form
Of magical deception—
For acid rain again sprinkles
From our eyes, the source of
Which is unbeknownst to our
Souls.
Naive | |
|
| When Tears Fall
Posted: 2/27/2012 2:33:07 PM | Pendulum of Extremes
Within a garden of daffodils
Teardrops soak into the soil
Suddenly and without
Warning—let us pray.
Within the confines of a
Small room, memories cause
Laughter to burst forth—
Such joy is intoxicating.
Naive | |
|
| When Tears Fall
Posted: 2/27/2012 2:43:19 PM | Meditation
When I am desolate,
I vanish within myself, if only to
Absorb the fullness of emptiness.
I strike at the root, burning into it.
This feeling, is the finger of music,
Branding my soul. I meditate
Until contrition has dissipated.
I become the universe.
Naive | |
|
| To Realign
Posted: 2/29/2012 2:49:36 PM | To Realign
Impalpable love and
Limpid pain, each the
Fragrance of eternity.
After we wash our
Hands, we shall picnic
In the vineyard.
Partake of the fruit of
Love, my amore—believe
In me.
Out of the deepness of the
River, we shall prevail—
If we so choose.
What have we become?—
Taking this elevator
Journey, searching the skies.
As a phoenix, we shall
Reincarnate. The pain
Shall not last forever.
She is of choice gold,
Being treated like bronze.
Where do I fit in?
Will more than vibrations
Effloresce?—for the stars
Are singing our song.
How does one of her
Stature suffer silently?—a
Stranger to my eyes.
Such embarrassment has
Realigned my soul.
Naive | |
|
|
|
|
Page
85
of
93 (53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93)
|
|
Home
login 
